


Mask

by McKay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-03 01:52:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10957224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McKay/pseuds/McKay
Summary: These are three separate stories, but I'm posting them together as chapters.





	1. Mask 1 — Severus

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2002. Not a happy!fic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single moment.

Something is not right.

I took Remus the Wolfsbane potion today. He smiled when he greeted me, as always. He was appreciative, as always. But there was something... off. Something missing.

After he had drunk the potion, he set the goblet on his desk and pushed it to me. No brush of his fingers against mine as he handed it back this time. His smile never wavered as he said, "I understand congratulations are in order. I'm happy for you both."

But there was something in the depths of his eyes that did not match his words, something that remained unreadable. That damned mask was back in place, the one I thought he'd got rid of when we made our peace with one another. The one I thought he showed to everyone except Sirius -- and me.

I have my own mask, one made of anger and bile and harsh words, but his is different. His is carefully crafted out of a soft, calm voice, a pleasantly neutral expression, and doors that remain firmly shut in his eyes, revealing nothing, even when I look closely.

When did he become this polite automaton? He was not like this in school, but when he returned to Hogwarts to teach, there it was -- the mask. He was always so unfailingly courteous, so damnably impossible to ruffle, no matter how hard I tried. I taunted and goaded him relentlessly, and all I got for my pains was that unbearable politeness.

It was all I could do not to grab him and shake him and demand to know what happened to his passion. I wanted to rip away the mask, tear it to shreds and see what lay beneath -- all of it, all of him. I've seen the slavering beast up close and personal, for God's sake. Nothing else about him could possibly be that damned frightening.

When he returned the second time with Sirius, who was a free man at last, we three made our peace at Albus' insistence, but it was a true peace, nonetheless, although we had much screaming at each other to get out of the way before we finally began to listen, especially Sirius and myself. It was wise of Albus to take away our wands first.

But ultimately, we were too battle-weary to continue fighting amongst ourselves, I think. Too much has been lost, no matter the war is won, for us to continue our own private skirmishes.

Indeed, the rapport Remus and I shared as students returned once more, and I began to remember why I had fancied him, especially when flashes of the mischievous, clever boy I had known peeked out at me from behind the safety of the somber man.

And that day in his office just after the transformation last month... There were dark circles under his eyes like bruises, he had not shaved, he looked uncharacteristically rumpled, perhaps a little fragile -- not a word I associate with him, as a general rule -- and his welcoming smile was edged with fatigue. I had a most unusual impulse to gather him in my arms and let him rest his weary head on my shoulder. I wanted to lend him my strength until his returned. I wanted to nuzzle my cheek against his and feel the rasp of beard stubble on my skin.

I wanted him, but all I did was ask, rather gruffly, if he were well. He replied yes (of course) and deflected my concern. I grasped his arm and sharply reminded him that there was no reason for him to be such a damned Gryffindor and try to teach when he was plainly exhausted, not when there were people available to cover his classes for him. Collapsing in the middle of class, I said, would inconvenience everyone far more and alarm the pupils, to boot.

I caught a flash of anger in those chameleon eyes, but it was quickly suppressed, replaced by humour. Did I intend to teach in his place again myself? Perhaps assign another lengthy essay on werewolves? Or did I want him to provide another boggart? It was too bad, he added, that Mr Longbottom had left the year before; otherwise, I could witness his method of defeating boggarts for myself.

In that moment, I didn't know whether I wanted to strike him or kiss him.

Then he looked up me, his haggard face naked and open, devoid of masks for the first time in twenty years. I saw the vulnerability in the depths of his eyes, and I knew. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to shield him and draw him out completely so that he never looked at me with the mask on again.

He drew nearer, one hand tentatively resting at my waist. I bent my head just as he tilted his face up. We were within centimeters of closing the distance between us when an unexpected salutation caused us to jump apart, the spun-glass moment shattered.

It was Sirius, come to check on him as well.

That night, Sirius coaxed me into his bed, and there have I remained every night since. Sirius wears no masks. What he feels, he shows, and he is very much a creature of emotion -- and sensuality. When he hated me, I knew it. Now that he wants me, I know it. I need not guess or wonder; he gives of himself freely, and I find that both novel and intoxicating.

We have both been discreet for the pupils' sake, but apparently, he told Remus at last, and now Remus looks at me with shielded eyes, when he looks at me at all.

An almost-moment lost.

Could it have made such a difference?

Sirius awaits me in my chambers, and he will greet me at the door, ready to soothe away my cares. He will ask me about my day, and I will tell him of the trials my pupils forced me to endure due to their overwhelming idiocy, and of delivering the potion to Remus as scheduled.

I will not tell him of the mask, or what I am beginning to suspect it is hiding.

The almost-moment was lost. It is too late to retrieve it now, and when I look into Sirius' open, loving eyes, I am not certain I want to.


	2. Mask 2 — Remus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reflections on a single moment.

Congratulations, my friend. Well done.

You saw what you wanted, and you took the necessary risk to get it.

I did not.

Thus I smiled and said I was happy for you when you told me that you and Severus are together, that you have been together for nearly a month.

I will not examine the timing of this closely. I am too old and tired to let myself dwell on this, after I have struggled all these years not to become embittered. I've experienced loss before; one more will not kill me.

Still... do not think I am unaware that this is the second time you have come between me and Severus. You shattered any chance we might have had when we were young with your 'prank', and now, suddenly, you have taken him as your lover.

How convenient that this occurred so hard upon the heels of your witnessing our moment.

Severus had come to my office and scolded me for returning to work too soon. There were people available to cover my classes for me, he informed me bluntly, which was a better idea than having me inconvenience everyone and alarm the students by collapsing in the middle of a lecture.

At first, I was angry with him for being a condescending ass, until I looked in his eyes and saw genuine concern. At that, my anger fled, and I teased him to show that I looked worse than I felt, asking if he intended to teach my classes in my stead and teach them about werewolves again, as well as offering to find another boggart, despite Mr Longbottom was no longer at Hogwarts to demonstrate the best way to banish it.

Our gazes locked, and I could tell by the indignant flare of his nose that he didn't quite appreciate my teasing. I simply looked up at him, tired, yes, but grateful that someone - particularly Severus - cared enough about my wellbeing to scold. And in that moment, something changed, some subtle shift occurred between us, and I found myself reaching out to him before I even realised I meant to do so. I moved closer, rested my hand at his waist, and by some miracle, he did not pull away.

Oh, no -- far from it. He bent his head to kiss me just as I tilted mine up to be kissed. I was within scant centimeters of learning the taste of lips I had dreamt of since adolescence.

Then Sirius walked in.

The moment was lost, and somehow, I never managed to find Severus alone to recapture it. He was working, or we were in public, or Sirius was with him.

Now I know why.

I should have stepped forward and taken a chance when I had it. Too late now.

My pack was taken from me nearly twenty years ago. Since then, I have been a lone wolf.

I have no more hope of that ever changing.


	3. Mask 3 — Severus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Results of a single moment lost.

"Why?"

To his credit, Remus did not pretend not to understand the question. He simply glanced over his shoulder, treating me to a glimpse of ever-guarded eyes that gave away nothing save he was tired.

"It's time," he said quietly and simply, without so much as a pause in his rhythmic transferal of books from his office shelf to a small, battered trunk.

I forced myself not to grind my teeth. So we were going to play that game, were we? Very well. I had wrung confessions out of the most recalcitrant, equivocating students of Slytherin House with my interrogations before, and I had no qualms about using my skills on him to find out exactly why he had resigned from Hogwarts yet again.

He had not told me he intended to resign, which was not a surprise; he had said precious little to me in the last few months beyond polite conversation at meals and when I delivered the potion. Thus it was a surprise when Albus announced at the banquet that Remus would not be back next year.

It was also a surprise to see the stunned hurt in Sirius' eyes when I glanced at him to see how he was taking the news of his friend's departure. He had not mentioned it to me, but I assumed Remus had asked him not to. Instead, the look of raw shock on his face told me that he had not known either.

"Why," I asked in my most patient tone, "is it time? Do you honestly expect me to believe that you have better prospects elsewhere?"

"I don't give a damn what you believe."

Another surprise. Remus was the calm one, the quiet one, the diplomat. I could not recall hearing such blunt words from him before.

"You didn't even warn Sirius. You let him hear the news along with everyone else at the banquet," I said accusingly. I had thought better of him than to treat the man who was supposed to be his best friend in such a way.

"And?"

The complete lack of emotion in his voice infuriated me, and I had to force myself not to grab him and shake him.

"And he deserves better than to have that kind of shock sprung on him without warning!"

He went completely still for a moment, the lines of his back tense. I thought I heard a low snarl, but when he turned to face me at last, his expression was impassive.

"Sorry."

"Is that all you have to say?" I asked coldly. "Sorry isn't good enough to make up for the hurt you caused him."

He shrugged at that, infuriating me even more. "It's all I have to offer."

It seemed as if I could see him fortifying the walls ever higher and wider even as we spoke, and all I could do was stand on the outside of his fortress, frustrated at the lack of any discernable chink.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" I demanded, my hands clenching into fists. I wanted to shake him, to strike him -- anything to get some kind of reaction from him other than this cold apathy.

He folded his arms and stared at me, his lips thinned into a hard line. "I fail to see why where I go and what I do is any of your business - or his."

"He's your best friend. I thought that should have meant something, at the very least."

There it was - a flash of anger. The first real sign of emotion he had shown since our conversation began. Unlike my anger, which simmers and erupts like a volcano, his burns with an icy chill. His eyes were frozen as they bore into mine.

"Not anymore."

With that, he turned back to his books as if dismissing me, and I did erupt then, grabbing his shoulders and spinning him back around to face me.

"What the hell do you mean, not anymore?" I roared.

"He got what he wanted. He's happy. End of story. Nothing else matters." His voice was flat and cold, but he didn't attempt to wrench free of my grasp.

I stared at him as I processed his words, then the pieces fell into place, and I let my hands fall from his shoulders.

"I don't suppose there is anything either of us could say to convince you to reconsider."

A tiny, wry smile tilted one corner of his mouth. "Nothing in the realm of the possible."

My breath stilled in my lungs. It seemed as if time had rushed backwards, returning us to that moment in his office. Something -- I wasn't entirely certain what -- hung in the balance between us, and it lay with me to determine which way it fell.

"Are you so sure of that?" I forced the words out, hoping they were the right ones.

Blood roared in my ears, drowning out anything he might have said in response, but fortunately, he did not speak. He simply closed the distance between us and rested one hand at my waist, just as he had done that day so long ago. The other reached out to cup my cheek and draw me down.

His lips brushed lightly against mine, questioning their welcome. I wanted to part mine. I wanted to let our breath mingle and our tongues dance. But I thought of months spent in Sirius' arms, in his bed. Caught between the memory of Sirius' body and the warmth of Remus' mouth, I hesitated. In the space of that hesitation, Remus left me.

He didn't even have to leave the room for me to know he was already gone.

"Yes, I'm sure. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to finish packing."

I had thought he might write on occasion, but the summer is nearly over, and there has been no word of where he is, or what he is doing. Tonight, the full moon streams through the window in Sirius' bedroom. I move closer to him and nuzzle the pale skin on the back of his neck, making him stir a little in his sleep, but not enough to wake. I breathe in his scent and close my eyes to block out the silvery light, telling myself the distant sound in the night is nothing like a lone wolf's howl.

 

-end-


End file.
